


Don't judge a book by its cover

by Closetfic_er



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Liam, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Kink Meme, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Slight Dom Niall, Slight Feminisation, Slight sub Liam, Top Niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closetfic_er/pseuds/Closetfic_er
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about judging books by covers is that you can be wrong. So wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't judge a book by its cover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt over at 1DKink2015 on LJ. Check it out and get your kink on!
> 
>  
> 
> _"Inspired by a previous prompt, because it got me thinking - I'd love to see a fill in which it's Niall who's called daddy. It'd be a really interesting dynamic, I think. Niall slash any member of One Direction tbh! Whatever you like!"_
> 
>  
> 
> **Please note:** This has not been beta'd. Also, high probability of OCness (you can probably tell where I stop trying to mimic the boys speech patterns). Oh wells! _*Throws it on the ground and runs*_
> 
> ~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+

The thing is, see, that when people look at One Direction they stick the boys in categories; they judge them and assign them roles. Like Liam: the serious, parent-figure. Strong, dominant. Or Niall: not the youngest, but he might as well be. Sweet, soft, innocent.

 

The thing about judging books by covers is that you can be wrong. So wrong.

 

Niall's the first to admit that he's done it. He's judged people (and books for that matter) based on their appearance rather than their content. In fact, he'd argue that you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone in this world who _hasn't_ done the same.

 

It's probably why the first time it happens he brushes it off as nothing more than an overactive imagination. It begins, as most of these things seem to in this bloody band, with a game of Truth or Dare.

 

“Niall! Mate! Buddy! Pal! Light o' my life! Truth or Dare?” Louis shouts drunkenly, cocking his beer bottle in the Irish lads' direction.

 

Niall grins, happy and bright, in response, eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

 

“'Course he's gonna say dare, innit?” Zayn drawls from his half-slumped position on the couch. “He's, like, dyin' for a chance to get 'is kit off.”

 

The rest of the lads laugh in response, all at various stages of intoxication. Liam's led the charge tonight, shockingly, and his giggle rings out high and lovely above the rest.

 

Louis pauses for a moment, face scrunched up in concentration as he contemplates where to go from here. Harry leans into him, uncoordinated limbs flopping about like over-grown puppy paws and whispering suggestions in his ear.

 

“Oi! None'a that Styles! Gotta come up with it himself, don't he!” Niall objects indignantly.

 

Louis brushes off the suggestions and the objection with a “His ideas are always rubbish anyways,” before ducking Harry's retaliatory swipe. “Alright, Neil,” he smirks, “For the rest of the night you have to call us all adorable pet-names. No use of our actual names at all or you take a shot.”

 

Niall's not sure how this is meant to punish him exactly: he's always up for a drink and calling his band mates pet-names isn't particularly embarrassing. “Righto then, Sweet Cheeks. Whatever you say.”

 

Liam chokes on his drink as Louis glares petulantly, suddenly anticipating how this is going to back-fire. Harry's muttered “Now whose ideas are rubbish,” is barely heard over the sound of Zayn slapping a spluttering Liam on the back as they all chuckle in response.

 

Niall just shoots a shit-eating grin back at Louis before turning to Harry. “Oi, Sugar Plum, truth or dare?”

 

“Dare me,” Harry chuckles, slow and amused and with a cock-sure tilt to his lips.

 

Niall considers his dare, gaze flicking around the room. Liam's relaxed and smiling Niall's way, Zayn's got his eyes closed where he's shuffled down further on the couch, and Louis and Harry are bent over Louis' phone, watching what appears to be a cat video.

 

Liam's still coughing a bit and, great friend that he is, Niall asks with concern “You alright there, Baby Girl? Maybe you should grab some water. And grab Daddy a beer while you're up.”

 

Liam's reaction is strange. He jolts a bit, eyes widening and face flushing when he meets Niall's gaze before he leaps to his feet and moves swiftly towards the kitchen area.

 

Niall doesn't have any time to consider what just happened because Zayn bumps him with a foot, snorting with laughter. “Hey, what about me? Liam! Can I get a refill, too, while you're up? Ta!”

 

“Get your own drink, Doll Face. Baby Girl is only getting me one because she loves her Daddy.” Niall takes exception to people trying to ride his coat-tails. Also, he's incredibly drunk right now and this is turning into one hilarious dare. He should remember to thank Sweet Cheeks later.

 

“And why, pray tell dear Nialler, are you calling yourself 'Daddy'?” Louis asks, disdain in his voice as Zayn giggle-snorts on the couch. “Also, we all know that _Liam_ loves me most.”

 

“Everyone else gets a name, Sweet Cheeks. T'ought it was only fair.”

 

They all glance up as Liam reenters the lounge, gaze firmly avoiding eye contact and face red as a tomato. He hands Zayn a beer on his way to doing the same for Niall who thanks him with a “Cheers, Baby Girl”. He watches in fascination as the flush only deepens, and is pretty sure he hears a hitched breath in response.

 

Niall ponders the number of times Liam's been called 'Daddy' or something similar by the boys and the fans, and can't remember one time where he'd reacted like this. Sure, the first couple of times Harry'd drawled out 'Daddy Liam' in that sex voice of his Liam (and everyone really) had blinked in thought.

 

But this. This is different. The flush isn't just embarrassment. The hitch in Liam's breath is more than a swift intake of thought. The way his _eyes_ suddenly seem to be made of melted chocolate, the 80% cocoa kind. The way his hand seems to twitch in response to Niall's voice.

 

Liam sits back down in his place between Doll Face on the couch and Sweet Cheeks' floor sprawl. Niall's a breath away from demanding that Baby Girl come sit with Daddy in the arm-chair, when his thoughts are derailed by Sugar Plum's “So've you a dare for me or not?”

 

The thought is forgotten in the drunken haze of dares and truths that follows, and the rising of the sun the next morning doesn't awaken it.

 


End file.
